The More Things Change
by Spark Writer
Summary: The Penderwick family arrives at Point Mouette for a second time, ready for summer adventure and rollicking fun. What they didn't expect is to cope with family problems, fights between friends and the scariest thing in the human existence-change.
1. Summer Begins

**Ah, summer has arrived and in it's honor, I've decided to write another Penderwick adventure! I have been working on this first chapter for quite some time, so stick with me; updates may be slow. Enjoy! **

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Though squeezed together between boxes of assorted junk, exhausted by the long car ride, and slightly carsick, the Penderwick sisters hadn't been so joyful for quite some time. Just as promised the previous summer, their entire family—this time including Rosalind, Mr. Penderwick, Iantha and Ben—was on its way to the little slip of a peninsula that jutted into the Atlantic: Point Mouette. Jeffrey was to meet them there; he was staying in his father, Alec's cozy red cottage. The sisters couldn't fathom a summer without Jeffrey. It would be tragic, unspeakable and terribly lonely. So the knowledge that they'd be sharing their summer with Jeffrey, Alec and their old friend Turron, was intoxicating.

If not for one problem the summer would be perfection, but life is hardly ever picture-perfect, anyway. It was Rosalind who noticed it first; the sudden distance between her father and Iantha. She so often held herself responsible for keeping the family together—be it with metaphorical duct tape and glue—that she fretted over this new glitch with deep anxiety. Iantha had become absorbed in her astrophysics and Mr. Penderwick in writing his first botanical guide book, and were both increasingly independent. Unfortunately, they had forgotten to be independent _together. _Rosalind hoped that by some sort of summer magic, her family would become closer than ever before, that the cloud of indifference would lift, and that she would remember this summer, as a happier, wiser person. This was a tall order.

As for Skye, the second-eldest Penderwick sister, she spent most of her time grumbling about growing pains and fussing over her precious math problems. Having survived a whole summer without Rosalind, she was slightly less worried that a disaster would befall them. Still, she was profoundly relieved that Rosalind was in the car beside her—not far away in New Jersey. She, too, felt a squirm of unease when she thought about her father's lack of intimacy with Iantha. She'd been proud when Rosalind chose her as a confidante, and would die before she told anyone this secret, especially not Jane. Skye would rather tell Batty than Jane. Jane's brown eyes would begin to glisten with tears, and she'd retreat to her bed to write heartrending poetry while Skye chucked pillows at her. No, that wouldn't do. She would be Spartan, a stoic soldier—for Rosalind's sake, at least. Skye did wonder if maybe Rosalind wouldn't mind if she mentioned anything to Jeffrey. But deciding that she shouldn't do anything to further agitate her older sister, Skye shut her mouth like a trap.

In the back seat beside Skye, Jane was nibbling on her pen and commanding her mind to come up with a better idea than the lowly ones she'd had so far. What adventures could Sabrina Starr have now? She had already rescued a dizzying number of animals, a boy, an archaeologist and had her heart broken. Jane was impressed with all of this, but also sad. She was slowly coming to the realization that Sabrina Starr was getting stale. Perhaps Point Mouette would bring her the inspiration to create a new protagonist, even more enthralling than the last. She doubted so. Sometimes Jane wished she was like Rosalind, mature and logical. Or like Skye—confidant in her ideas and full of determination. Even Batty had it easier than she did, always playing with Ben or Hound or Funty the elephant. _I'm like a rose, _thought Jane. _If not planted in the right soil, my roots refuse to grow._ Finding this to be deliciously dramatic, Jane scribbled it in her blue notebook for future use. When finished, she glanced at Batty, surprised at the number of tangles that seemed to have appeared in her little sister's hair, as if by magic.

"Are you excited, Banana-Batty?"

Batty's grin seemed to illuminate the entire car. "If people could explode from happiness, I would."

For some reason, Rosalind looked sad at this.

"I'm excited, too," Jane remarked. "I'm so excited I feel like I could take the whole world in my arms!"

Skye rolled her eyes. "I swear the hospital nurse switched you with another baby. We can't possibly be related."

A crinkle appeared between Jane's brows. "Then how come Rosy and I look like twins?"

"We don't look…" Rosalind trailed off, trying to master her irritation.

Sensing forthcoming trouble, Mr. Penderwick spoke from the driver's seat. "I called Alec this morning, and he and Jeffrey are already settled in. Alec said to tell us that it's been pretty rainy this week, so not to expect much soccer or swimming until the bad weather clears. That's lucky for you, Jane-O," he added, "Because that will allow you some time to get your creative juices flowing."

Jane sniffed. Her "creative juices" were as abundant as water in the Sahara.

Batty poked Skye. "Move over, you're squooshing me!"

"Is that even a word?"

"Of course it is," Batty replied smartly. "It's Latin."

Jane grinned at her father in the rear-view mirror, determined not to laugh aloud. "What does it mean, in Latin?" she encouraged.

Batty shrugged. "I don't know. I guess it means, 'squished.'" She resumed her tummy-rubbing of Hound, who rumble-snored in appreciation.

"I can't wait to see Jeffrey," Skye remarked. "He's the best doofus I know!"

"I miss him, too," Rosalind agreed.

"I miss Moose Market," Jane added. "And the mighty seas, and Hoover—" Here, Skye groaned- "and Jeffrey's lovely piano playing and the Birches. I miss everything."

Not wanting to feel left out, Batty added, "And I miss stuffed green peppers."

At this, both Skye and Jane moaned, and Skye made several convincing retching noises. Rosalind stared at her sisters with amusement and confusion.

"If I never see another pepper as long as I live," growled Skye, "I swear it'll be too soon."

Jane nodded and clutched her stomach. "Anyone object to changing the subject?"

Hound woofed, so Jane took that as a yes.

"Iantha," Skye called, "how far are we from Point Mouette?"

Iantha thought for a moment. "I'd say about twelve miles, Skye."

Skye clapped a hand to her forehead. "I won't last! I'll end up murdering one of my sisters before we get there."

"Don't say that," Rosalind rebuked. "We're going to have a nice trip no matter what."

"Rosy's right," Jane agreed. "Stop sulking and start smiling."

"You know, Jane" Skye muttered threateningly, "they'll probably see in your autopsy that you have a big mouth."

Jane stuck her tongue out at her sister. "Did you forget your nap today?" she goaded.

"Don't tempt me," Skye barked, turning to face the window.

"Honestly, you two." Rosalind pursed her lips in annoyance. "You're behaving like five year olds." She glanced apologetically at Batty and added, "Actually, you're behaving _worse _than five year olds."

Batty giggled.

"That's enough, everyone." Mr. Penderwick straightened his glasses and fixed his daughters with a stern gaze. "I realize you're all tired and hungry and bored, but we're almost there, so please buck up and try not to spoil the day."

Skye averted her eyes, Jane flushed and Rosalind stared at her knees. Their father didn't usually adopt such a stern tone, but when he did, he meant business.

"We're sorry, Daddy," said Rosalind. "Really, we are."

"I know," said Mr. Penderwick. He winked.

Within minutes, they had turned off the state highway and onto the winding road that cut through the charming town and toward the Birches.

"There's Moose Market!" Jane exclaimed. It looked just as it had the year before; customers streaming in and out.

Rosalind glanced about her with shock. She hadn't been prepared for the charm of the town, nor the natural beauty that surrounded them. The tall pines, the crushed seashells and the hilly terrain. They sped along, bumping over the dirt road that ended in front of the Birches.

Skye began to count the seconds that lay between them and all future adventures. "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight…" she had just reached seventeen when Batty squealed.

"We're here!"

In a whirl of laughter, shouts and much dropping of luggage, the Penderwick family set foot on Maine soil for their first time that year.

And so their summer began.

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**Review...oh, come one, you know you want to! =D**

**-Spark Writer-  
**


	2. Reunited At Last

**The Penderwick sisters hope you enjoy this chapter! I finally got them to approve...xD**

**Feel free to give me ANY ideas whatsoever, I really do use my reviewers' ideas.  
**

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Under an endless blanket of gray clouds, Skye and Jane tumbled through the crush of birches that separated Alec's cottage from theirs. They had barely set down their bags when they were running towards Alec, towards Hoover, towards _Jeffrey. _Skye crashed through the brush like a maniac, Jane hot on her heels. By the time the sisters arrived at Alec's door, they were severely oxygen deprived and panting like Hound on a hot July day.

Jane began a solo on the doorbell that nearly deafened her sister.

"Shut up, Jane! I'd like to have my hearing when Jeffrey comes out!"

"Calm down, oh-sister-of-mine." Jane batted her lashes convincingly.

Rolling her blue eyes, Skye rapped on the door. "Jeffrey, it's us! Come out before I knock the door down!"

Luckily, the door swung open with hospitable haste, and Alec stood grinning at them. "Well, if it isn't the illusive Penderwicks! Welcome back, you two!"

Jane beamed with emotion, while Skye peered anxiously around Alec. "Where's Jeffrey? Don't tell me he forgot, because-" She was interrupted as Jeffrey appeared behind Alec, ducked under his father's arm, and crashed in to both Skye and Jane for a monster hug.

"I missed you guys so much!" he shouted exuberantly, startling a flock of sparrows in a nearby tree. "Well, one of you…" he winked at Jane, and dodged Skye's well-aimed punch. She was too excited to see Jeffrey to get too angry, however, so she decided to let this one slide.

Jane was bouncing on her toes, her eyes sparkling. "I'm_ delighted_ to see you again, Jeffrey! Positively _saturated _with joy!"

For the second time that afternoon, Skye poked Jane with her elbow. "Be quiet, Jane. Jeffrey doesn't know what the heck you're saying right now."

"Of course I do." Jeffrey grinned at Jane. "But you do sound like you've just won the national spelling bee, Jane. Maybe you should try using simpler words. Or be like Skye," he laughed. "Speak only in grunts."

Skye was upon Jeffrey in a flash, tickling and pummeling and shouting threats. It was only when Jeffrey tripped on a rock and nearly broke his neck, that they ceased their wrestling.

"So," said Jeffrey, nimbly dusting himself off and smoothing his hair, "Where's Rosy? And Batty and Mr. Pen and everyone else? Iantha and Ben and Hound, I mean."

Skye shrugged noncommittally. "I would assume that they're getting settled in at Birches. We couldn't wait, though." She smirked at Jane.

"I was going nuts waiting for you to arrive," Jeffrey admitted. "I tried to play soccer, but it just wasn't the same, you know?" Skye did know. She hoped she was still a slightly better soccer player than Jeffrey. She was wounded at his ability to crush her in arm wrestling. She would have to challenge him again this summer.

"Have you composed any new piano pieces?" Jane asked Jeffrey eagerly. "An opera, perhaps?"

Skye snorted. "Doubtful…" She loved Jeffrey dearly, but somehow when she was actually _with _him, it came out all wrong.

Jeffrey poked Skye with a twisted half-smile. "That's enough of that, Skye Penderwick. Let's go get the others."

The threesome trudged back through the woods, flashes of the brilliant stretch of ocean peeping between trees. Hundreds of ideas seared Skye's mind; there would be time for endless soccer drills, dusty walks to Moose Market for pie and other essential items, frolics in the sea, and countless other adventures. This was all wonderful, of course, but she did worry about what Rosalind had said. About Daddy and Iantha "growing apart." How could they possibly grow apart when they had been married for a little over a year? Was it something the sisters had done?

Skye frowned, tuning out Jane and Jeffrey's mindless chatter. Was it something _she _had done? Had her hot temper put too much pressure on Iantha and her father? Somehow, she doubted this, but still fretted over this possibility with dread.

"So," Jane was saying, "Are there any nice kids in your music school? Have you found friends?"

Skye thought Jane was being a bit of a snoop, but couldn't help listening to Jeffrey's reply.

"Yes, there're a lot of nice kids, actually—but none come close to competing with your family."

Skye let out a breath she didn't realize she had been holding.

Jane continued her bombardment of questions. "Does anyone play soccer? I bet you're the best player there, right? Do you miss it? Do you like anyone?" This question was completely out-of-the-blue, and Skye frowned horribly at Jane to shut up.

Thinking for a moment, Jeffrey sidestepped a large boulder and laughed. "I'll try to answer all your questions," he began. "Yes, _no, _yes…uh, in what way?" he asked, frowning thoughtfully at Jane.

Skye chewed her lip, glowering at the back of Jeffrey's head. It wasn't at all like her to feel so jealous, so—_possessive, _that she thought she might be coming down with some sort of illness. She felt her forehead for a fever.

Giggling, Jane flushed. "Jeffrey! You know exactly what I mean!"

Resigned, Jeffrey paused and leaned against a sturdy oak. "I don't know, Jane," he admitted. "I kind of like this one girl…but obviously she has no idea."

Jane was delighted. She put her hands on Jeffrey's shoulders and gave him a slight shake. "_Ask her out! _Even if she rejects you, at least you tried."

"No way! That's beyond humiliating."

"Why?" Jane was a-flutter with optimism. "I asked a boy out just this year!"

"You left out a significant piece of the story, Jane." Skye looked directly at Jeffrey. "He happily rejected her and she cried for a month."

"Oh, the drama." Jeffrey grinned fondly at Skye. "I really did miss you."

Skye stubbornly ignored the fact that Jeffrey had suggested that he missed _her, _not the others. She was Spartan, and refused to be at all sentimental. Just to prove this, she punched Jeffrey on the shoulder.

"Ouch, what was that for?" Jeffrey rubbed his arm, and swatted Skye with his other hand. "Look!" Alec was standing on the postage stamp of a front yard, surrounded by excited Penderwick's; Hound and Hoover leaped in joyful circles.

"Let's go," Jeffrey commanded. "I can't wait another second for summer to begin!"

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**...Well?**

******-Spark Writer-**


	3. Shells

**Read your heart out!**

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For once, Rosalind allowed herself to shed the skin of responsibility, and just enjoy herself. She, her family, Jeffrey, Turron and Alec were crammed into Alec's cottage, doing their best to avoid sitting on a saxophone or leaning against stack of sheet music. Jeffrey and Jane had been given kitchen duty, while she, Skye and Batty set the table with silverware, napkins and plates.

Alec, Turron, Mr. Penderwick and Iantha discussed the latest political events, their children (in Alec and Mr. Pen's case) and Alec told of his adventures playing music on the road. Rosalind listened now and then, catching brief snippets of conversation while bouncing Ben on her knee. He, much like Batty, took a great interest in the piano and occasionally poked one of the keys to see what exactly would happen. She marveled at just how much he resembled his mother. The same large, rather anxious eyes, warm smile, and although Ben's red hair was a shade brighter than Iantha's, he still got a cowlick in the same spot.

"Skye just gets prettier every day," Iantha was saying, smiling. "You're in trouble, Martin."

Rosalind grinned involuntarily; the thought of her sister dealing with bothersome boys was a cause for hilarity.

Alec was nodding and laughing, he turned to Jeffrey—who had just come through the kitchen door, and spoke. "Jeffrey, what do you think of Skye?"

Jeffrey, caught off guard, frowned thoughtfully. "In spite of her obvious insanity, I like her very much." He swung around and disappeared into the kitchenette.

The adults laughed, and Skye, who was straightening forks and knives, scowled. Rosalind studied Skye carefully, noting the faint blush that spread across her cheeks. For being so cutthroat and "Spartan," Skye was acting unlike herself, thought Rosalind. _Very _unlike herself. She gazed affectionately at her younger sister and stood, scooting Ben off her laugh. "Want to go see if we can help in the kitchen?" Rosalind asked him. He nodded happily and headed for the kitchen.

Inside it, Jeffrey and Jane were roaring with laughter and swatting each other with dishtowels.

"Stop it!" Jane gasped, bracing herself against the counter. "If I fall over laughing and break my neck, I'm blaming you."

"Hey, you two," Rosalind interjected. "Anything Ben or I can do to help?"

"No," Jeffrey assured her. "We're almost ready, but thanks anyway." He winced as the oven timer went off with a fearsome screech. "Jane, would you mind getting the casserole?"

"My pleasure," she said, bouncing over to the oven.

Rosalind waited until Jane had rescued the casserole from the oven without accidentally setting her curls on fire, then ducked out. She nearly crashed into Skye, and only kept her balance by clutching a free-standing coat rack. "Watch out, Skye! You never did learn to look where you're going, did you?"

Skye puffed air through her cheeks. "Sorry, Rosy. Alec wanted me to check if there are any paper plates in the cupboard. He said it would be easier than washing twenty dishes."

Rosalind vehemently agreed with this.

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After a surprisingly delicious dinner, the three oldest sisters, plus Jeffrey, wandered outside into the cool evening air. The ocean was calm then, lapping gently at the shore and sparkling in the fading sun. Skye stood out in her dark jeans and black tee-shirt, a Oreo-like contrast to the white sand. She doddled along, tracing geometric shapes into the sand, kicking loose pebbles and looking everywhere but at Jeffrey. She did not notice how tall he was getting, how much he was nicely filling out his frame, nor how his normally neat hair stuck up more than usual. She was oblivious to all of it, only thinking of black holes and dark matter. She walked more and more slowly, eventually losing track of the others, altogether.

Skye plunked down on a boulder, one still warm from the sun. She feared that she would end up with a permanent crease between her brows, due to all the worrying she did. She worried about Iantha and her father, she worried about calculus, and she worried about Jeffrey. She worried about herself, too-worried about the outlandish thoughts that snuck into her mind and the pain happening somewhere deep within her. Without thinking, she placed a hand on her chest, near her heart. She remembered a time that year when Jane had accused her of having a crush on Jeffrey. Of course, Skye had rapidly dispelled of this rumor, claiming that never did have crush on the freckled boy, and never would. Scowling, she glared at a passing crab, and twisted her hair into a tight knot.

To her, it was obvious that Jeffrey didn't like her in that way. He played soccer with her and had adventures with her, but they were friends. He liked someone else. Probably some gorgeous, clever musician, a girl whom Jeffrey deserved. One who hadn't called him stuck up. One who hadn't smacked into him in the hedges and insulted his mother.

Skye picked up a shell and made a fist around it. She decided that when she threw it, she would let go of her stubborn longing and return to her effective, logical self. She tossed the shell into the sea, then slid off her rock and looked around for her sisters or Jeffrey. They were at the opposite end of the beach, playing soccer. She headed in that direction, beginning to jog.

"Skye!" Jeffrey bellowed. "Ready for two on two?"

Skye charged over and deftly stole the soccer ball from a protesting Jane. She passed it to Jeffrey, who neatly scored. He high-fived her, with a grin. "Our team is undefeated!"

"I beg to differ!" retorted Jane. "I've made the most goals on my entire team! Not to brag, of course…"

"Of course," said Jeffrey. He turned to Skye and winked. "Nice pass, by the way. You were brilliant."

Skye snorted sardonically, but privately was thinking that she would need to throw about thirty more shells.

They began again, playing spectacularly until the sun dipped below the sea and it was too difficult to make out the ball. The four young people collapsed on the beach, sweaty and satisfied.

"Rosy," Jane said suddenly, "Do agree that if Jeffrey likes a girl, he should ask her out?"

Rosalind glanced quickly at Skye. She thought for a moment. "Yes, I suppose so. I'm sure she'd say yes," she added helpfully.

Jeffrey groaned and lay back on the sand. "I would _really_ rather not talk about this."

"Oh, stop being so embarrassed!" Jane rolled onto her stomach and poked Jeffrey. "So what's she like? Is she super smart? A brilliant musician? Stunning? Come on, _I want answers!_"

Rosalind rolled her eyes. "Jane, stop bothering Jeffrey."

"Jane," added Skye. "Stop being an idiot."

Jeffrey waved this off. "It's okay. I trust all of you, anyway. Alright, well, she's a bit bossy at times, she plays a little piano, and a lot of kids at school like her—although I don't think she likes all of them back. She put up with me." He grinned inexplicably at Skye—who quickly averted her eyes—and pushed himself into a sitting position. "Enough about me. Rosy, you've already got a boyfriend, Jane—you're recovering from, er…"

"Heartbreak," Jane admitted.

"Yes," Jeffrey agreed. "So it seems that Skye is the only sister here who isn't romantically inclined."

"You're a pea-brain, Jeffrey. I just thought you should know that."

He only laughed, not at all annoyed. "Call me what you like, Skye Penderwick."

Somehow, this sounded flirtatious and made Skye feel all the more violent. She rose, swaying slightly. "I'm going back to the house," she blurted. "Call me when you stop being stupid!" Ignoring Jeffrey's hurt expression and Rosalind's pleas, she stalked off, relishing the cool wind that soothed her hot temper. About halfway there, Hound came dashing up to meet her.

"Be still, demon-dog," Skye commanded. Hound barked and nudged her. He wasn't in the mood for such name-calling.

_Being angry is so much easier_, thought Skye. She quickly forgot about Jeffrey—at least, as anything more than a friend—and was strong and independent once more.

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**Do it! Review! Work with me, people...**

**-Spark Writer-  
**


	4. The Art of Forgiving

**Without further ado...**

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"Wake up!"

Skye, roused from a thick sleep, glared into her youngest sister's face. "Why the heck did you wake me up at this hour?" She peered at her watch. "Holy bananas! 5:30 in the morning?"

Batty tugged at Skye's arm. "I want to go see moose!"

"Why can't Rosalind take you?"

"She said that it would be smarter to ask you, because you know the way."

"Curse older sisters." Skye drug herself from her cot, shielding her eyes from the ray of white morning sunshine. "Go wait in the kitchen, Batty. I have to get dressed and leave a note for Daddy."

With a bit of rifling, she found a clean black tee-shirt and slipped into shorts, and yesterday's sneakers. Eventually, she gave up looking for a sheet of paper, and wrote a note to her father explaining where she had gone on a crumpled napkin. "Good enough," she muttered.

Batty was indeed waiting in the kitchen, perched on the table's edge, swinging her legs. "Come one, Skye! I really want to see the moose before it's too late!" She looked anguished at the thought of missing such a treat.

Skye groaned, not for the first time, and took Batty's small hand in her own. "No running off, no humming, no talking, and certainly no taking Hound with us."

Batty looked especially sad at that, but quickly cheered as the they crossed the yard and started through the woods. In perfect silence, the two sisters walked nearer and nearer to the golf course, slowing their pace as the expanse of neatly trimmed grass burst into sight. Skye stopped abruptly, yanking Batty backward. "Halt."

Wriggling free of Skye's grasp, Batty squinted at the golf course, a look of obvious disappointment crossing her face. "The moose aren't here!"

"They'll be here soon," Skye assured her. "Until then, no talking!" She had just noticed that she and Batty were not the only humans around; a figure could be seen on the next small hill, leaning against a pine tree. That person wasn't a stranger. Jeffrey was waiting for moose, also.

Skye faced Batty. "Are you sure you want to see moose today? How about tomorrow? Or a year from today? I'll mark it on the calendar, so that…" she trailed off. Batty was dashing in Jeffrey's direction, delighted in every respect. Skye rolled her eyes as Jeffrey spun Batty around and sat on the grass beside the little girl. She hated that Jeffrey was so effortlessly nice. It was enough to make a person sick! Quickly making her decision, she sank down onto the dewy grass and wrapped her arms around her knees. She wouldn't give anyone the satisfaction of budging from this spot. If she noticed Jeffrey calling to her to join him, she pretended she didn't. She was strong and silent.

And miserable.

The moose arrived minutes later, two adults this time. They loped along, nosing loose balls with curiosity. At least Skye enjoyed the peace and quiet that surrounded her. Surrounded her, that is, until Jane came rushing up and flopped down beside Skye.

"What are you doing here?" Skye asked this question with obvious distaste.

"I saw your note to Daddy and decided to join you on this covert adventure! Besides, I need inspiration for a new Sabrina Starr story, and this experience may be exactly what I need to regain the creativity that evades me!" Jane gasped for air after this little speech, and gazed wide-eyed at the moose. She flipped open her notebook and began to scribble furiously. Skye thought she caught Jane muttering something about the "stark beauty of grass clippings," as she wrote.

Turning away from Jane, Skye watched Jeffrey and Batty tickling each other. If only things weren't so darn complicated. If only she didn't like Jeffrey so much that she hated him. Flopping hopelessly onto the grass, she blinked at the pine branches above, inhaling their pungent scent. Skye knew she ought to stop moping around, go get her newest book on black holes, and live on a mountaintop for all eternity. Instead, she rolled over and poked Jane.

"Ow!" Jane rubbed her arm furiously.

"Jane, do you think Jeffrey hates me?"

"He adores you!" Jane looked highly indignant. "How could you ever think otherwise?"

"Because I got mad at him. You were there, Jane! Wouldn't _you _be angry?" Skye dropped her head in her hands, extremely weary with all this talking in circles.

"Maybe you could apologize."

Skye sat up, infuriated. "That would be mortally humiliating!"

"Well, it's mostly your fault," Jane pointed out. "And Jeffrey _is _good at forgiving and forgetting."

Skye was grumpy. "I wish I could forget." She tossed a pinecone at Jane, just for good measure, then clambered to her feet. "Wish me luck. But if this plan fails, I'm suing you." With a final nod, she abandoned Jane and marched in Jeffrey's general direction. He was lying on his back, laughing with Batty and pointing at clouds.

"Hello, Jeffrey," Skye said stiffly.

He sat up, a ghost of a smile playing at his lips. "Hi."

Giving Batty a "get-out-of-here-this-instant" look, Skye lowered herself to the ground. Batty skipped off, humming just as Skye had told her not to.

"To what do I owe this pleasure?" Jeffrey gestured at Skye, grinning a bit. "I take it you're not mad anymore?"

"I _am _sorry. Forgive me?" Skye waited on tenterhooks, the seconds crawling by.

Without a word, Jeffrey leaned over and hugged her. She was rigid at first, caught off guard by this obvious show of affection. Sensing Skye's discomfort, Jeffrey leaned back and winked. "I accept." Skye opened her mouth to speak, but Jeffrey held up a hand. "You know, there's something I've never said to you that I should have."

"What?"

"I'm so incredibly sorry about your mom. I spend a lot of time complaining about Mother, but it really hurts to imagine her not being here."

Skye nodded. "I don't really miss her, but sometimes I just wish I could talk to her. Just once. There are so many things she'll never—" Skye broke off, blinking too quickly.

"I know." And Jeffrey did. Having come close to living his entire without a father, he knew exactly what Skye meant. "Hey!" he said, brightening. "I forgot to mention something—with Independence day coming so soon, there will be fireworks down on the public beach, tonight. You have to come!"

Skye grinned impishly. "You know my deep admiration for explosives." They stood, brushing loose pine needles from their clothes, and set off.

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**Thoughts?**

**-Spark Writer-  
**


	5. Jane's Secret

**Greetings! I'm cranking out new installments with astonishing speed-for me-so read and enjoy. I'm really quite pleased with the way this chapter turned out. And guess what? I decided to incorporate the "Jane/Jeffrey" plot thread into this story. Will it succeed? I hope so... Anyway, thanks for all your reviews, support and ideas. I love it! **

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Jane Penderwick had a problem.

Somehow, over the course of several years, she had come to a most unfortunate conclusion: she liked Jeffrey. Being a good sister, she hid this infatuation well, and did her best to admire the green-eyed boy as a dear friend and nothing more.

_The heart wants what the heart wants, _she thought sadly, sprawled on her cot in the screened-in porch. A whole list of things (most of them dreadful) kept her from telling anyone her true feelings, but a growing jealousy of Skye and Jeffrey chewed at her stomach.

Number one—Skye would probably kill her.

Number two—She, Jane, would ruin Jeffrey and Skye's budding relationship.

Number three—Jane shivered at the thought of being labeled as a "scarlet woman," even though she knew full well that liking the same boy as your sister doesn't automatically make you evil.

Number four—Life was hectic enough without this fresh drama.

Still, thought Jane, perhaps this would give her ideas for her next novel. She certainly hadn't had any so far…

She considered her feelings for Jeffrey. Was she in love? No, it was more like a crush—but she despised that superficial word, a word used to describe pop-star-obsessed teenagers. Rather, it wasn't a crush, but a deep admiration with some attraction thrown in. Jane liked the sound of that. In any case, who wouldn't like Jeffrey? He was caring and kind and delightfully funny—the boy of any girl's dreams. So why did she still feel guilty?

Jane sat up. "Because Jeffrey likes Skye," she murmured to herself. She lay back down, remembering how Jeffrey had hugged Skye so tenderly just that morning while she herself sat alone. She tugged at a curl, both thoughtful and melancholy. A small part of her just couldn't help entertaining the idea that if things didn't work out between Skye and Jeffrey, Jeffrey might choose her instead. He had written a piano piece just for her, hadn't he? And if she hadn't lied and said that it was Skye's paper Hound chose, she would have been off to Boston with Jeffrey in a flash. Was it fate that kept Jane from Jeffrey? Or her own generosity to Skye? _It isn't fair, _Jane countered. _Skye can be so grouchy and hot-tempered. But she did write that science paper for me, and she did defend me from the eternally wicked Dominic." _Unable to come up with anything else, Jane looked about, feeling suddenly lonely.

After a brief search, she discovered that only her father and Iantha were around; Rosy was at Moose Market (buying brownie ingredients), while Skye and Jeffrey watched Batty and Ben on the beach. Jane could hear them shouting as they soaked each other with seawater.

"Hello," said Mr. Penderwick, as Jane wandered into his makeshift office. "How's that Sabrina Starr novel of yours, Jane-O?

"Horrible," Jane said disgustedly. "Is writer's block a terminal illness?"

Her father laughed, and shifted a stack of books so that he could better see his tormented daughter. "Let your ideas come to you, Jane. I realize that's easier said than done, but I have complete faith in your abilities." He smiled kindly, and Jane saw how nice brown eyes could be.

"Thank you, Daddy. By the way," she began, "where is Iantha?"

"Oh, uh, somewhere in the kitchen, I believe."

Jane tapped him the shoulder. "Why don't you bring your books out there and sit with her?"

Her father blinked. "I will," he said, standing abruptly and looking rather upset. As though he'd sadly neglected something. Or someone. "Amor animi arbitrio sumitur, non ponitur," he breathed, exiting with speed.

Pleased with her power of persuasion, Jane went back to wandering, eventually going outside into the brilliant sunshine. Hoover barked joyfully to her and tottered over. Jane rubbed his ears fondly, noticing just how much he had grown in the past year. "Where's Hound?" she asked, not ceasing her petting and rubbing. Hoover gave a sharp bark. "Chasing squirrels, is he?" She giggled. "I would expect nothing less."

Jane did a little of this and little of that; she put her toes in the ocean, she plucked a fat pinecone from a tree and tossed into the waves, and she considered making a message in a bottle. So absorbed in her own thoughts was she, that when Jeffrey snuck up behind her and tickled her, she shrieked as if having just trod on a mouse.

"Don't do that!" she gasped. "I could have had a heart attack!"

"I think you're too young for that," Jeffrey pointed out. "You don't have to start buying bunion cream until at least seventy-two."

"Ha ha." It was a bit funny.

"So, Skye proposed a dip in the ocean. What do you think?"

"I think that's a brilliant idea," gushed Jane. "It's a thousand degrees, anyway."

She smiled at Jeffrey and he smiled back; Jane felt herself blushing deeply.

"Can you feel it?" Jeffrey asked.

"Feel what?"

"Summer with you guys never fails to amaze me. It's as though all the messy part of life disappear." He grinned so that his freckled nose crinkled adorably.

"Absolutely," agreed Jane.

"This is when you're supposed to tell me something wise, or profound. No pressure."

"I guess—" Jane paused. "I suppose life is more than just being alive."

"I bow before you, Oh Wise One." Jeffrey winked and bowed so deeply that his nose brushed the sand. He straightened, his expression more serious. "But really, what you said is entirely true."

"I'm a genius, I thought we'd established that."

"Oh, Jane."

"Oh, Jeffrey."

"This is living, huh?"

"This is magic."

Jeffrey did not contradict her.

* * *

**So? Admit that you think Jane and Jeffrey have a slim chance at happiness...I even convinced myself! xD Btw, google Mr. Penderwick's Latin phrase...  
**

**-Spark Writer-  
**


	6. A Rush of Blood to the Head

**Hi! Prepare yo****urself for some especially dramatic Penderwicks!**

* * *

Summer was supposed to be perfection, thought Skye. Especially here, and with Jeffrey and Alec. But so far, everything was falling apart at the seams; Jane was acting loony, Batty continually begged her sisters to take her over to Alec's piano, Rosalind was always weary from being responsible for her younger sisters and brother, and even Hound grumble-snorted in agitation. All Skye really wanted was a delicious adventure—yet this was hard to come by.

A week had passed. The entire Penderwick family was very brown, with the exception of Ben (and Jeffrey) who were very freckly. Batty seemed to obtain a new scrape every hour, whilst Jane hovered annoyingly close to Jeffrey, humming and tugging at her curls. Skye herself had cut her foot on a loose rock the day before, and still had the gash swathed in bandages. She was completely sick of lolling around, and longed for someone to say—"Anyone up for capture the flag?"

Skye blinked and looked around. Jeffrey stood before her, grinning. "Come on, I know you do. Jane and Rosy have already said yes—I'm on my way to ask Batty."

"Count me in," said Skye, rising from her chair and wobbling slightly on her sore foot. "Let's bounce."

The five children met in the yard, standing in a circle. Rosalind was glowing from the sun; it occurred to Skye not for the first time how pretty Rosy was. "Okay," said Rosalind. "Let's split into two teams."

"I'm with Jeffrey!" Skye and Jane exclaimed in unison, then glared at each other.

"I want to go with Rosalind," said Batty. "Will you come, Jeffrey?"

In the end, Jeffrey went with Rosalind and Batty, while Jane and Skye paired up. Their "flags" would be an old tee-shirt of Skye's, and Jane's rain hat. Skye complained that the hat would be too easy to see (it being bright yellow) but Jeffrey assured her that they'd hide it well. He, Batty and Rosalind disappeared into the surrounding woods, their echoed laughter soon fading into silence.

"Let's go," Skye said sullenly. "We'll sneak around that cove and ambush them on the other side." She marched coolly away from Jane, radiating irritation.

"What's the matter with you?" Jane ran to catch up.

"I don't know—I guess the fact that you keep hanging around Jeffrey, which is really creeping me out!"

To Skye's utter astonishment, Jane's brown eyes filled with tears. "What are you implying?"

Skye swung around and glowered at her sister. "I'm starting to think there's something you haven't told me."

"Yeah? Like what?"

"Don't." Skye folded her arms. "You know perfectly well what I'm talking about."

Jane went scarlet with either suppressed humiliation or fury, Skye couldn't tell. "Fine. I'm a tiny bit attracted to Jeffrey, alright? What do you expect, Skye?" Jane was pleading; her dislike for conflict spoke for her. "He's sweet and smart and funny! The other boys I know are nincompoops!"

"But now everything's all complicated and emotional." Skye rubbed her forehead, hopelessly. "This is just going to turn into one of those stupid competitions, Jane. Whatever happened to Penderwick Family Honor?"

Jane sniffed and a tear dropped from her cheek. "I'd never do something like this just to spite you. I'm everlastingly sorry!"

Stiffening, Skye stepped closer to Jane. "You're selfish."

"How am I selfish? You're possessive, Skye—you don't own Jeffrey! What if Jeffrey doesn't like you? What then? Will you go and throw a temper tantrum, _just like you _always _do?" _Jane stomped her foot. "I hate you!"

Skye blinked. In one swift movement, she slapped Jane. Jane recoiled, a fiery palm-print appearing on her face. "That hurt," was all she said.

"I'm leaving," barked Skye. "Call me when you get your priorities straight." She charged through trees, over boulders and under fallen logs, all the while stung by Jane's words and satisfied with "the slap." Little she noticed the darkening clouds and gushing waves; she was too busy mentally punching Jane in the nose. With the might of an Amazon warrior, she tore into the other team's territory, snatched their flag, and ran for it.

"Hey!" Jeffrey bellowed. "Just wait till I catch up with you!" He raced after Skye, kicking up sand and pebbles. With only twenty feet to go, Skye put on a burst of speed, ensuring her victory. Panting, Jeffrey staggered to a halt. "Impressive," he gasped. "If an eyewitness were to blink, they would have missed you."

Skye smirked.

"Where's Jane?"

"Oh, she wandered off a while ago. Probably trying to brainstorm ideas for that blasted Sabrina Starr." Successfully ignoring the squirming in her stomach, Skye headed for the Birches.

Drat that stupid, maddening, infuriating sister.

* * *

**Please review! I really love to know what you think.**

**-Spark Writer-  
**


	7. The Search

**Best chapter ever! xD Kidding, kidding.**

* * *

"Skye, have you seen Jane?"

From behind her copy of _Science_ _Today_, Skye scowled. "No, I haven't, Rosy. Why?"

Rosalind sat down on a porch chair, wringing her hands. "It's been four hours since anyone's seen her. Oh, Skye, my stomach hurts!"

Casting her precious magazine aside, Skye sat up, thinking. "I think I know why…"

"Why what?"

"Why no one has seen Jane." Skye felt as if she'd swallowed a scorpion and was praying it didn't sting her on the way down.

Rosalind glared at her sister with the kind of look that singes. "Explain."

"Well, we had bit of an argument and-"

Rosalind shrieked. "I know Jane! Whenever she has a fight with anyone, she goes off and hides, so that none of us will see her cry. Skye, this is all your fault!"

"You weren't even there!" Skye shot back. "Jane told me she hated me!"

"So what?" Rosalind challenged. "She's still your sister, your _younger _sister. One of these days you have to learn to master your temper."

Skye closed her eyes. "I'll make this right. Penderwick Family Honor. But we need to start searching—it's getting dark."

"On top of that," Rosalind remarked, "There's a nasty storm blowing in."

There was. Monstrous clouds blanketed both the sun and moon, throwing the world into inky darkness. The ocean was seething and spitting.

Without wasting time to put on shoes, Skye ducked into the night.

Skye,wait!" Rosalind stepped into the rain. "You can't go alone. I'll tell Daddy and Iantha, and they'll-"

"Please let me go alone." Skye gazed at Rosalind pleadingly. "Tell the others, but let me go by myself. This is my fault, anyway."

"I'll go." As if out of thin air, Jeffrey materialized, brandishing an industrial sized flashlight. "Ready?"

After Rosalind's assent, Skye and Jeffrey were off, stumbling blindly in the stormy dark.

"Miserable weather, isn't it?" Jeffrey commented, probably to inject a note of common sense.

"It's probably Karma, out to get me."

Ignoring this, Jeffrey shone the flashlight into Skye's face. "Where should we look?"

"I don't know!" Skye wailed. "Where the heck would someone as loopy as my sister want to go when she's upset?"

"She's not with Alec," said Jeffrey. "He looked."

"Maybe she's with Turron," Skye said desperately. "He rescued after she broke her nose, last summer."

"Turron's not home, remember? Besides, he always locks his house up when he leaves. There's no way Jane could have gotten in."

That was it. They were never going to find Jane, and when they did, well, she'd undoubtedly be a pile of bones. Skye kicked a tree, angry and so afraid. She kicked the tree again and again, fighting off sobs. Oddly, the more she wrestled with the obstinate tree trunk, the more her mind whirred—

"Jeffrey."

"What?" He gazed concernedly at her.

"I think I know where Jane is."

The Bernadette was being tossed on the waves like a cork in a bathtub. It pitched and rolled, foam obscuring its green racing stripes. Skye began to half run, half stagger along the wet dock. Jeffrey stayed behind to alert the others, so it was she who advanced, entirely alone. In seconds Skye was upon it, looking down. Someone who resembled more of a woebegone puppet than a person was curled on the boat's floor, sobbing.

Jane.

In one movement, Skye dropped down beside her desolate sister. Jane looked up, startled. Upon seeing Skye, she sobbed even harder.

"You are a wonderful, amazing idiot, Jane Letitia Penderwick." Skye put a hand on Jane's damp shoulder, unsure. She wanted to hug Jane fiercely, and tell her how wrong she'd been. Instead, she began to cry for the second time that night. "I'm so, so, sorry. I was a selfish pig." She wiped her face on her sleeve, embarrassed.

Jane, her face still swollen from crying, gave Skye a tiny smile. "I don't hate you. I realized that when I was sitting in here, weeping. I just really missed you." She took Skye's hand, and shook it, then latched their pinkies together. Skye laughed. "I can't believe you still remember that hand shake!"

Before Jane could respond, Jeffrey, Rosalind and Batty were upon them, shouting and waving to the adults—"We found her! She's okay!"

Jeffrey was white under his sprinkle of freckles, and Batty clung to Rosalind, trembling with relief. Jane jumped up, receiving tight hugs from all of them. When her father arrived, spectacles lopsided in his haste, she burst into tears again. "Oh, Daddy, I'm sorry!"

Unable to speak, he squeezed her tightly, his eyes bright. Iantha produced a blanket and began rubbing Jane dry. "You've got enough salt in your hair to season a thousand potato chips," she chuckled. Everyone laughed.

Alec insisted that everyone come over for movies and pie, which he had recently purchased from Moose Market. Skye, happy to have her sister back, her family intact and a scary movie to boot—felt that at last, things were getting better all the time.

* * *

**...You know you want to...**

**-Spark Writer-  
**


	8. Getting There

**At last, chapter eight is ready fro reading! Hope you like it...**

* * *

The sun rose brilliantly the following morning, illuminating the rain-washed beach and distant golf course in dazzling light. Skye awoke due to the fact that Jane was muttering from her cot.

"Shhh." Skye rolled over and squinted at the cot opposite her. "Jane, you'll wake Jeffrey."

"Whoops!" Jane's face appeared from beneath her quilt. "Sorry, I'm just trying to think of ideas for Sabrina Starr. I'm all out, you know?"

Skye didn't, but she was so relieved to have Jane safe and well—not in pieces at the bottom of the Atlantic—that she refrained from saying so. "What's the problem?"

"Well, Sabrina Starr always rescues _somebody, _only this time I can't think of a single person of thing for her to save!"

"Make her find out that she has a long-lost twin sister. Named…" Here Skye paused, unable to come up with a girl's name that Jane could deem satisfactory.

Jane lit up like a Christmas tree. "Named Sasha! It means defender of humankind."

"Yeah. That." Skye pushed off her covers and yawned. "Are you sure you forgive me for last night?"

"I swear on my life! Penderwick Family Honor," Jane added solemnly. Inexplicably, she blushed and looked away. Perhaps she was wondering what to do about Jeffrey. Skye shoved her encroaching feelings of jealousy to the wayside, and (still clad in her pajamas) wandered inside. She ran headlong into Rosalind, and stopped short, clutching her head. "Ouch!"

"Skye, Iantha wants to take you and Jane into town today. Just for fun," she added lightly.

"Why?" Skye was instantly suspicious.

"Why not?" Rosalind patted her younger sister's shoulder. "No one's looking for battle. And get dressed, by the way. Your shirt's on wrong side out."

"Fine." Skye stalked out to the porch and peered around the divider. Jeffrey was immersed in a music book, reading the notes as if they were words.

"Hey."

"Hey, yourself." Jeffrey closed his book with a snap and looked up at Skye. "I know what you're thinking."

"I doubt it."

"You're thinking that I'm insane for reading a music book before breakfast. Am I right?"

Laughing, Skye nodded. "Apparently you are very good at advanced telepathy."

Jeffrey waggled his brows. "So I've been told."

Skye thoroughly enjoyed having Jeffrey sleep over. It reminded her of the previous summer. Now, he lived in Alec's cottage, but what with the past night's excitement and horror movie, he'd crashed on the spare cot.

"How come you haven't played anything on your clarinet this summer?"

"Have you actually grown to like it?" Jeffrey stood up, now a good five inches taller than Skye.

She stuck out her tongue, still grinning a bit. "Maybe."

"Can I have that in writing?"

"Oh, shut up."

Too late, Skye realized that "shut up" can be a somewhat flirtatious phrase, and she rather wished she hadn't used it. Luckily, Jeffrey was already chattering on about treble clefs and flats—things Skye knew absolutely nothing about—so she was able to mask her temporary embarrassment.

"Skye, why on earth are you still in your pajamas?" Rosalind was back, nibbling a slice of toast and clutching Funty, Batty's beloved elephant. "And where's Batty? I can't find her anywhere."

"Check with Alec," Jeffrey suggested. "She loves that piano too much."

"Of course!" Rosalind's anxious expression cleared. "You're a genius, Jeffrey!" She flew off, leaving Skye to rouse Jane and both sisters to pull on shorts and tee shirts.

In the kitchen, Iantha, Mr. Penderwick and Ben were sitting at the table, laughing about something. Well, Mr. Pen and Iantha were laughing; Ben was simply smiling, not quite sure what it was he was supposed to be chuckling about. Jane collapsed into the empty chair.

"Morning!" she trilled.

Skye, less exuberant in the morning, mumbled to herself.

"Oh!" Iantha jumped from her seat. "I almost forgot—I'm taking the two of you to breakfast. There's a little café in Moose Market," she explained.

"Oh, I've always wanted to eat there!" cried Jane. "This is fantastic!"

* * *

The Moose Market Café was adorned with many antlers, and was complete with a rustic fireplace—unlit, of course, as it was 80 degrees outside.

Iantha sank into a booth by the window, whilst Skye and Jane crammed in opposite her.

"So," she said.

Skye blinked. "So what?"

"Rosy talked to me last night. About you two."

Jane blushed again, fiddling with an ancient saltshaker. "You mean…our fight?"

"Yes," said Iantha, smiling slightly. "About your fight. And she seemed to have an idea what it was about. Tea, please," she added, addressing the care-worn server.

"She can't know," said Skye. "Rosy doesn't have ESP!"

"But she is the oldest, and oldest children often notice things." Iantha leaned her elbows on the table. "Don't you agree?"

"Erm, yes," murmured Jane. "Rosalind is an observer, for sure."

"I'm going to make a wild guess," Iantha said. "This is about Jeffrey?"

"Darn Rosy," burst Skye. "Double darn that dratted sister!"

Squirming unhappily, Jane spoke. "It is about Jeffrey. I sort of like him, too."

"And this makes you jealous?" Iantha gazed calmly at Skye, who nodded sharply.

"Which makes Jane feel guilty because she intended no drama or harm?" Jane nodded beseechingly.

"Which in turn makes Skye lose her temper because she feels that Jane tearing someone very important away from her?"

Skye glanced sidelong at her sister, and nodded.

"Ah," said Iantha. "Now we're getting somewhere. Frankly, I believe Skye genuinely likes Jeffrey. I believe Jane is _attracted_ to him because of his kindness and understanding. But really, Jane," she said prudently, "there are many boys on the horizon."

Jane smiled, admittedly a bit sadly. "I actually think you're right. There is Oliver, from Cameron. I think we have major clickage."

"I have a question." Skye looked admiringly at Iantha. "When did you become so smart?"

"Every so often, the astrophysicist in me does the talking." Iantha winked. "Now, what do you say about pancakes?"

* * *

**Review, review, review...;D**

**-Spark Writer-**


	9. Almost Perfect

**Hi! Here's a little Skye/Jeffrey for you to sink your teeth into. xD But not quite...hehehe.**

* * *

"I thought I just might find you out here."

Skye looked up, startled. She hadn't expected anyone to trace her to her perch in the Bernadette. "And why is that, Jeffrey?"

The freckle faced boy clambered in beside her. "I suppose it's because you always choose unusual hiding spots. Urns, for example."

"You kumquat!" Skye poked Jeffrey. "I can't believe you still remember that."

"Ah, well, Cagney sees everything… Anyway, why are you out here all by yourself?"

Skye shrugged. "I just felt like it, I guess. My mind is all jumbled up right now." She cleared her throat abruptly, fearing that she'd said too much.

"I'm sorry," said Jeffrey. "I could go, if you want."

"No, stay."

Jeffrey turned his face into the salty wind, looking thoughtful. "When we were looking for Jane, I don't think I've ever seen you like that. Sort of—distraught."

This remark hung in the air before Skye spoke. "Jane is still the world's most irritating sister. But it's scary when one of your family goes missing—at least, it made me remember why I put up with her in the first place. I'd feel the same way," she added, eyeing Jeffrey, "if it were you."

He flushed.

"By the way, I'm in a pretty bad mood right now," Skye warned him. "Everything seems awful because we have to leave in two days."

"I know."

"What will you do after that?"

"Mope around, I guess." Jeffrey grinned impishly. "Perhaps I'll write an operatic tragedy."

"Yeah, right." Skye pulled her knees to her chest and hugged them, feeling Jeffrey's warm gaze.

"I hate that we live so far apart."

"It's not that far," Skye pointed out. "It's within driving distance, I mean. Besides, I'd lose my mind if I had to put up with you all the time."

"I'm wounded!" exclaimed Jeffrey, but he was laughing too hard to be taken seriously.

"So, is your music school really worth it?" Skye half hoped he would say no; the memory of his new crush made her boil with fury.

"Musically, yes. But socially—I don't know. The kids are nice enough, but they just don't have any…any _spark._ That sounds stupid," he added anxiously.

"Of course it doesn't." Skye was matter-of-fact. "I don't like eighty percent of the kids at my school, and sometimes Jane falls in that eighty percent. Sometimes."

"It's funny," said Jeffrey. "You don't seem to like a whole lot of people, but you're really hard not to like. To me, at least."

"Thank you," Skye said in a dignified manner.

"You're welcome."

"I should go," said Skye. "Daddy will want me to help set the table. Again."

"I'll help!" Jeffrey burst eagerly.

"Great, you can do the spoons." Rising to her feet, Skye made to leave, but Jeffrey stopped her.

"Wait, pass me that rope. We have to make sure the boat's secured properly."

Skye handed it to Jeffrey, but their hands got a bit tangled up in the passing over. Whereas Skye hurriedly tried to withdraw hers, Jeffrey held on, and gave her hand a slight squeeze. Sure she was blushing a brilliant crimson, Skye leaped away.

Jeffrey looked up, holding her in his firm gaze. "You know what I said about that girl?"

"At your school?" supplied Skye, instantly annoyed with herself for remembering.

"I'm beginning to think I was all wrong."

"Oh." This left Skye feeling extremely stupid.

He smiled quietly, looking for all the world as though he was making up his mind about _something._ "Shall we?" He gestured toward the Birches.

Nodding mutely, Skye swung over the boat's side, and landed nimbly on the dock.

"Hey," called Jeffrey, mirroring her, "why don't you wear your camouflage hat anymore?"

"I don't know. There isn't really anything I need luck for, I suppose."

"Still." Grinning, Jeffrey fell into step beside her. "It suits you."

"You're an idiot."

"It takes one to know one, Skye."

Under any other circumstances, she would have pummeled Jeffrey on the spot, but he spoke with sincere affection.

* * *

**What do you think? Is it working?**

**-Spark Writer-**


	10. Glorious

**! Yes, that is how I felt when writing this chapter. Small wonder. It was very difficult and very and tricky, but VERY rewarding. Long story short (it's too late for that ;) enjoy!**

* * *

"Alright," said Rosalind, placing her hands on her hips, "first the box with Batty's stuffed animals goes, then the one with Skye's soccer ball and Jane's books.

"Don't say _goes_," moaned Skye. "I'm starting to get upset."

Jane sniffed. "Me too! Why can't we stay longer, Daddy?" She gazed beseechingly at her father, who was settled comfortably in a wicker chair in the tiny living room.

"I'm sorry, Jane-O. Being on vacation takes more work than you'd imagine. And I believe Ben is getting a bit homesick."

The ginger haired little boy nodded.

Batty put her arm around him in a sideways hug. "Cheer up," she chided. "We have a whole more month of summer!"

Skye grumbled from her spread-eagled position on the floor. "I hate leaving. Everything's all wrong."

Jane brightened. "On a happier note, I have thought of a new idea for a novel. But I can't tell any of you until it's out of its literary cocoon—"

"Jane, you just may be the weirdest sister every known to humankind." Skye winked, uncharacteristically. "And that's coming from right here." She patted her heart.

Jane stuck her tongue out. "At least I don't occupy my days reading about dark matter. Yawn!"

"At least I don't spend _my_ days writing about stupid mat-"

"Enough!" Rosalind hollered over both sisters. Their father looked extremely amused. "For the love of everything good and pure in this world, would everyone please shut up?"

"Sorry," giggled Skye. Her mood had improved significantly.

"Skye, Jane, go put the boxes in the car—I'll go have a look around to make sure we haven't left anything."

Once Skye and Jane had dispersed, Jeffrey appeared. "Hey Rosalind."

"Hello! If you're looking for Skye or Jane, you have bad timing."

"As a matter of fact, I am." Jeffrey arched his brow. "Where are they?"

"Check out by the car. I told them to start loading boxes." She sighed, feeing melancholy herself. At least she'd soon be seeing Tommy.

"Thanks!" Spinning on his heel, Jeffrey tugged Batty's curls fondly and was gone.

Jane and Skye were currently battling over space in the already cramped car trunk. "Ouch, you're squishing my wrist!" Jane complained.

"Well, stop trying to jam that suitcase in the corner. It'll never fit!"

"Yes it will! All we have to do is move this box over—yow!" Jane had dropped the box of books on her toes.

Appearing out of nowhere, Jeffrey lifted the box and neatly placed in the car. He inspected Jane's foot for serious damage. Seeing none, he grinned. "You're good to go."

Jane beamed. "He's very gallant, isn't he?"

Skye smirked.

"Oh, Skye, would you mind coming over to help me move the piano? Hoover keeps getting stuck between it and the wall."

"Absolutely," said Skye.

Jane frowned. "What am I, chopped liver?"

"Of course not! But where would we be without Skye's legendary bicep brawn?

"I see. Well, good luck!" Waving, Jane went back to stacking luggage, hobbling a bit as she did so.

In the red cottage, Jeffrey set to work, yanking and pulling the gap-toothed instrument as if his life depended on it. Skye, who was less adept at yanking, occasionally bumped into a stack of sheet music, sending the papers flying. After several tense minutes of work, they collapsed on the piano bench.

"Whew," breathed Skye, mopping her forehead.

"You said it." Jeffrey rested his fingers on the keys and plunked out a faint melody.

"What's that? Did you make it up?"

No, I didn't _make it up!_ I composed it."

"Same difference."

"I really wish you'd try to learn to play the piano."

"Oh? Why is that?"

"Then you could add piano-playing to the long list of things you're good at."

"Like what?" Skye raised an eyebrow in friendly challenge.

"Soccer, astronomy, astrophysics, archery, being courageous, being an OAP… Yeah," he concluded."

Skye was silent. She was aware of the five inches separating her from Jeffrey, aware of the fact that he had stopped playing, and was staring at her—more color in his face than before.

"More than anything," he said softly, "you're good at being your own kind of beautiful."

This was the last thing either of them said before they leaned toward each other, quite in sync. It is hard to go into shock when kissing someone, but that is exactly how Skye felt. Her heart thumped wildly in her chest, her face burned (though it wasn't unpleasant) and she was slightly taken aback by her own urge not to stop.

And even through all this, Jeffrey kept kissing her, his hair brushing her forehead. After a small eternity, Skye pulled away reluctantly, opening her eyes to see him staring back, his eyes bright. "Guess what?" he asked.

"What?"

"You can go ahead and add this to that list of things you're _amazing _at."

* * *

**The elusive kiss has occurred! What do you think? This story isn't over yet.**

**-Spark Writer-**


	11. For Now

**Read well!**

* * *

Skye wanted to punch something. Not out of anger, no. Out of triumph and undiluted victory. Because, for Skye, slamming her fist into something reminded her of being alive. Despite the inevitable fact that she and her family were leaving that day, she still felt that if she were to drop dead that very instant, she'd drop dead as the happiest person on earth.

_I kissed Jeffrey, _she thought, grinning. _I kissed Jeffrey and I enjoyed it._ She did feel a little sad, deep inside. Somewhere among her meticulously folded black tee shirts and jeans, was summer—in all its stupid, glorious entirety. All the memories of telling Jane to shut up and of slipping in twilight rain puddles and kissing on a piano bench. All those images would be tucked away, neat and finite.

But neat is overrated, that Skye knew.

She pulled on the zipper of her suitcase, tugging with abandon. "Close, you obstinate piece of junk!" She gritted her teeth, ready to start shouting abuse, when Batty appeared.

"I put all my stuff in the car trunk," she informed Skye. "Why is your face so red?"

"I don't know—maybe because I can't get this cursed luggage to zip!"

"Let me try!" Batty zoomed over and instantly slid the plastic zipper into place. "Presto!" she hollered, obviously very pleased with herself. "Maybe you should ask me for help more often."

"Why would I need your help?" Half-annoyed, Skye hefted her suitcase of her cot.

"You needed it right now." Batty pointed out the obvious.

"Yeah, but that was just a fluke. You don't need to, I don't know, be responsible for anyone. Me, of all people."

Batty's small face split into a grin. "Deal with it!" she crowed. "Because I'm going to be here whether you like it or not." She tossed her curls in a frighteningly familiar imitation of Jane, and strolled away.

"You're nuts!" Skye yelled after her, laughing ruefully. Would wonders never cease…

"Oh my gosh!" A shriek from Jane jarred Skye from her thoughts. "Oh my _gosh!_ Ye gods in garters!"

Figuring that "ye gods in garters" meant serious business, she rolled her luggage into the kitchen, where Jane was hula-dancing. "What?"

"Skye, you'll never guess what just happened!"

"J.K. Rowling called and wants you to collaborate with her on her next novel."

Starry eyed, Jane shook her head. "Even better! Oliver Chance just called me! Oliver!" she chided, seeing Skye's blank look. "The one who got published in _Write Now."_

"That magazine you love?"

"Yes! He just called and asked if I wanted to hang out sometime. Oh, Skye, this is fabulous!"

"That's—" Skye cleared her throat. "That's really awesome, Jane. Congrats! Wait a minute, is Oliver the one who always walks around with collar up because he thinks it looks cool?"

"Who else would it be? He's deliciously mysterious, don't you think?"

Skye grumbled.

"And anyway, he's practically a genius. He could get a scholarship to any college he wanted!"

"Jane, you're both in sixth grade, what d'you care?"

"I care because he writes. You care about Jeffrey because he listens."

"Listens to who?"

Jane folded her arms. "Listens to you, you nitwit! And because he can kick your behind in soccer but still can't beat you."

"Yeah, well." Skye laughed. "Those are all very valid points."

"What happened yesterday at Alec's cottage?"

"Jeffrey told you. We moved the piano."

"And?"

"And nothing!"

"I don't believe you…" Jane said in an annoyingly sing-song way.

"Nothing happened, Jane. I swear."

"You're lying, Skye! I can tell—please, what went on in there?" Jane dipped her chin and widened her eyes. "Please?"

Skye leaned over, so close she could pick out the moss colored speckles in Jane's brown eyes. "Nope. I don't kiss and tell."

Outside, shoving bags of potato chips beside soccer balls in the crowded car, Mr. Penderwick and Iantha frowned at each other. "What was that?" she asked, wincing at the ear-splitting shriek.

Mr. Penderwick righted his spectacles. "I believe that was Jane, just now. I can only wonder…"

Iantha grinned a little and raised her bag of chips. "Happy summer, Martin."

His eyes went impossibly bright. "Happy summer, dear."

* * *

**...And the rest is left to your extraordinary imaginations. :) Keep watching for Part Two, soon to be posted. I hope to properly portray my first Penderwicks OC, Oliver Chance. Anyway, your reviews mean more than you know-thanks a million. Until we meet again, Penderwick Family Honor!**

**-Spark Writer-  
**


	12. PART TWO

**Hi everyone! Welcome to Part Two! Please tell me what you think of the OC-and of course, the chapter itself. Stay tuned!**

* * *

"Jane, call Daddy."

Skye slipped nimbly past her sister and into the warm kitchen. She tossed her backpack aside, wriggled out of her jacket, and nicked an apple from the bowl on the table. Settled at last, she winked at Jane. "You were the last one in, you know."

"Oh, fine." Jane was too happy to be much irritated, anyway. Crossing the room, she hurriedly dialed her father's number. Behind Skye, Rosalind appeared, looking very pretty in her new raspberry scarf and fitted jeans. Skye scowled. Rosalind was a bit too pretty—half the boys in Rosy's high school snapped around just to ogle as she passed.

"Skye, how's that English assignment going?"

"I have an outline."

"Great! How were, you know—_them?"_

"Stupid, as usual." Skye propped her feet up on an unoccupied chair. "Very stupid."

"Who, Pearson and Melissa?" Jane, having finished talking to Mr. Penderwick, turned around eagerly. "Were they playing tonsil hockey on the bus again?"

"Yuck, no! Jane, what have you been reading?"

Rosalind smiled to herself, thinking of Tommy.

"No, Jane, but they were holding hands and whispering."

"Ooh! You should have eavesdropped!"

"I'm not a snoop."

"Yes you are," said Rosalind. "Remember when you eavesdropped on Mrs. Tifton? And on Daddy and Aunt Claire last year?"

"Those don't count. I am glad that Pearson found someone else to trail after. Someone who likes it."

"That's only because you're busy with Jeffrey." Jane helped herself to her own apple, and tugged at her curls. "Rosy, d'you think you could help me make a French braid in my hair? It always comes out."

"Of course. Anyone you're trying to impress?"

Skye muttered something that sounded very much like _here we go._

"I'm falling for someone, Rosalind! I think he's the most delightful boy alive."

"She's definitely falling," Skye remarked. "Every time she gets within fifty feet of him, gravity gets the best of her."

"Shut up, Skye," Jane said cheerily. "Oliver asked me to write with him sometime."

"Wow!" Rosalind peered out the window, anxious to make certain Batty and Ben—and Hound, of course—were still safely in the yard. They were. "What does he look like? I don't think I've ever seen him."

Jane bit dreamily into her apple. "He's really tall, for one thing. He has a lot of dark hair and his eyes change color. I swear! Sometimes they're gray, and other times they're this lovely shade of blue."

Skye knew Oliver. Well, she knew _of _him. She'd seen a tall boy walking around with a notebook and pen in hand, and an extra pencil clenched between his teeth. He didn't seem interested in the trivial social events—dances, for instance—so he wasn't well known among the middle schoolers. "So, are you going to write with him?"

"Obviously!" Jane smoothed her hair for the umpteenth time. "In fact, I invited him over. Today!"

"What?" Rosalind leaped to her feet, suddenly frantic. "Jane, you should have said something. The house is a mess!"

"No, it's not! Iantha and Daddy won't mind, Rosy! Please don't be angry."

"I'm not." Rosalind sighed and sank back into her chair. "Skye, I know you have homework—go do it."

Skye opened her mouth to retaliate, when the front doorbell rang.

"My directions worked!" Overjoyed, Jane practically tripped over her own feet in a hurry to reach the door.

Skye winked at Rosalind. "This is going to be an interesting afternoon."

"You're telling me." Rosalind straightened her posture as they heard the front door slam shut. Two pairs of feet approached the kitchen—"Everyone, this is Oliver." Jane threw her arms wide for emphasis.

Beside her, an exceedingly tall boy leaned against the doorframe. His deep brown hair grazed his brows—not in the purposely messy way most teen boys wear their hair—but simply as though he hadn't given it a thought. As though he had better things to do. He studied Rosalind briefly, then gazed at Skye. Seemingly unimpressed, he straightened and raised his hand in greeting.

"Salutations."

Thrown off guard, Skye frowned at Jane. Jane shrugged, still very happy.

"Hi, Oliver." Rosalind rose to her feet. "I'm Rosalind, Jane's oldest sister."

Oliver slipped his hands into the pockets of his dark tweed coat, but not before Rosalind got a look at them. Her best friend Anna always said you could tell a lot about people from their hands. Oliver's were stained with ink. He dipped his chin toward Skye.

"You are Skye, aren't you? The math genius…" He spoke the last sentence with a touch of disdain.

"I am." Skye got up, too, and folded her arms. "That a problem?"

"No, it's just that math is for those who possess little to no imaginative qualities. For those who aren't very deep. Don't take that personally," he said carelessly. "It's just an observation."

"I want to punch you in the face every time you open your mouth, but don't take that personally." Skye smirked, seeing a faint flush spread over Oliver's pale face.

"Skye!" Jane's eyes flashed dangerously.

In an awkward attempt to break the tension, Rosalind brandished the bowl of apples at Oliver. He shook his head. "I don't eat while working. It breaks my concentration."

"Oh." Rosalind blinked. "Well, would you like to meet my little sister Batty and my step-brother, Ben? They're outside," she added.

"How could I pass up the opportunity to meet someone named Batty?" He smiled, but it was too much like a smirk for Skye's liking.

Tottering into the sunny backyard, Rosalind called to Ben and Batty. "You two! Come here!"

They abandoned their tree fort and ran up to Rosalind, eyeing Oliver with frank interest. "Who are you?" Ben asked, before Oliver could introduce himself.

"Oliver Chance—I take it you're Ben?"

Ben nodded, his carrot colored hair catching the light. "And this is my sister, Batty."

Skye and Rosalind smiled at each other.

Oliver knelt down so that he was eye-level with the little girl. "Is your name a reflection of inner insanity?"

Skye stiffened.

"No." Batty shook her head. "My mother named me. My real name is Elizabeth, after her."

Oliver broke into a smile, a real one, this time. "Miss her?"

Rosalind inhaled sharply. "How did you know she was gone?"

"Her photographs are everywhere. Looks just like you." He jabbed a thumb at Skye. "I can tell by looking at them that they're pretty old, yet you keep them nicely dusted."

Jane stared. "You're a genius!"

"I don't miss her at all," said Batty. "I didn't know her."

Oliver nodded and rose to his full height. "I felt the same way when my mother died."

Something in Skye twisted, and she forgot to hate the tall boy opposite her.

* * *

**You know you want to...xD**

**-Spark Writer-  
**


	13. Between Bookcases

**Ah, the controversy...=D First off, I'll give you a character profile of Oliver, just to clear up any misconceptions: Oliver is not a bad boy, a weirdo or a jerk. He tries to mask-not insecurities-but emotions, through being brutally honest. So much so, that it can offend and hurt. He really doesn't mean it, but he isn't socially aware enough to understand that these remarks (insults, even) can hurt people. Think of it like this:**

**-Oliver has an extraordinary brain that is hiding an actually pretty good heart.  
**

**-Jane has an extraordinary heart that is hiding an actually pretty good brain. They make an interesting pair. :)  
**

**Allow me to rant for a moment: Who cares if this isn't the guy for Jane?! Give her a break, she's only in 7th grade! I know so many girls who dated about 6 boys in 7th grade, and none of them turned out to be "the one." Oliver might be, and he might not. But there's no need to force it. You've only just read about this boy once! Allow me some time to unfold my characters before you make your decisions. Thank you!  
**

**As for this chapter, I hope I gave you the more human side of Oliver. The Penderwick sisters are lovely as usual, though Skye won't put up with Jane's new [love] interest...hehehee...  
**

* * *

Jane tiptoed through the Cameron Public Library, skirting tall bookcases and smiling enigmatically at frowning librarians. She was on mission. Speeding past a corny poster that read, "Read to Succeed," she saw him; bent over a black composition book and writing furiously.

"Hello!" She slipped into the chair across from him.

Oliver didn't raise his eyes from the page. "Hello, Jane. Please, before I look up; tell me that one of your sisters isn't with you."

Jane wriggled out of her jacket. "Just me. Why would it bother you if they were?" Her suspicion made Oliver look up. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"I'm sorry if you think I'm insulting them, because I'm not. It's just—they're rather _unlike_ you." He gazed levelly at Jane, waiting for a response.

"Well, you weren't very nice to them," she reminded him. "What with telling Skye that she has no emotional depth, and asking Batty if she was insane. Really!"

A small smile flashed across Oliver's pale face. "I _am _sorry. Forgive me? Before my mother…" he trailed off, locking his jaw fiercely. "Before my mother passed, she used to tell me that I was much too insensitive and that that was why I didn't have many, er-"

Jane didn't attempt to help him finish his sentence. She knew. Straightening her shoulders and smiling to show Oliver that she accepted his apology, she fished her trusty blue notebook from her book bag, and placed it on the table. "This," she announced in whispered tones, "is my life."

Oliver ran his index finger along the notebook's spine. "It's nearly full," he remarked, now flipping through the pages. "May I?"

Jane nodded her assent, not at all put off by Oliver's formal way of speech. He leaned over the spiral-bound book, and began to read. He read and read, until Jane began to squirm with nerves. "How d'you like it?" she asked.

There was a pause. "You're talented," he said carefully. "_Quite _talented. But you put in all this emotion and embellishment. It's far too personal for an author to do."

"Oh."

"You have to be more removed, almost—detached."

Jane did not like the sound of this. "Detached? But when I write, I give up little bits of my soul to the world, I can't remove myself! In any way!" She fussed with her too-tight French braid, irritated that she'd spent so much time to impress someone so…_cold_.

"Please don't take offense." Oliver let the blue notebook fall aside. "I'm doing it again, aren't I?"

"Yes," Jane muttered, "You're doing 'the face' again."

"The face?"

"You know, the '_I'm terribly clever' _face."

The corner of Oliver's mouth quirked up. "Shall we?" he asked, gesturing to the black composition book.

Jane allowed a slow smile to ignite her face. "Let's write like the wind!"

* * *

If there was one thing Skye hated about eighth grade, it was the ridiculous amount of homework involved. All she wanted to do was kick her soccer ball around. So far, she had to write an essay on the joys of modern technology, read Shakespeare's forty-second sonnet, prepare an oral report for history class, and practice her soccer skills with abandon if she wanted to make the school varsity team. It was all an unhappy blur. Well, maybe not the soccer part…

She pulled a small slip of paper out of her jeans pocket and stared at the number sequence until it was burned into her retinas. The one phone number she'd never forget would be Jeffrey's. She gazed at the familiar handwriting so long that her father had to bodily walk upstairs and tell her dinner was ready before she came to her senses.

"Where's Jane?" Skye asked, trotting down the stairs behind Mr. Penderwick.

"The library—would you put out the forks?"

"Sure." Skye snatched a handful of silverware from the kitchen drawer, then laid out seven place settings.

"You can put one of those forks back in the drawer, Skye. Jane won't be home for dinner."

"What, is she with that Oliver idiot?"

Mr. Penderwick swallowed. "Erm, yes. I don't hate the boy because of his personality. Rather, I'd hate him no matter who he was. I'm a bit careful with my daughters—if you haven't realized that by now." He winked.

"Well, I've met him, and let me tell you—it was no picnic!"

Skye shook her head, feeling as though she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders. "Daddy, Jane doesn't belong with him! She deserves someone polite!"

"Give Oliver a chance, Skye. _Mores amici noveris, non oderis."_

Skye snorted. "No Latin proverb is going to solve this one, Daddy."

Her father winced. "Jane's a smart girl," he pointed out. "I trust her completely."

"Oh, I trust Jane," said Skye, then added darkly, "I just don't trust Oliver."

"His mother died."

"How on earth did you know about that?"

Mr. Penderwick half-smiled. "Jane might have mentioned it."

"I'm not going to feel bad for him because of that, you know."

"I never said you should." Her father tousled her hair, and left the kitchen.

Skye groaned.

* * *

**Suggestions? ...Thanks for sticking with me!**

**-Spark Writer-  
**


	14. Long Distance

**I've answered the collective cry for more Skye/Jeffrey fluff! ...Hurray! Beware, this is admittedly the one of the fluffiest things I've ever written (though I'm not a very fluffy person) so keep that in mind. Or maybe this is preferred. =D**

**Anyway, I decided to inject a bit of modern technology into the story by way of text messaging. Enjoy, and as always, thank for your lovely reviews.  
**

* * *

Skye felt her brand spanking new cell phone vibrate against her leg. A flutter of anticipation jolted through her; she flailed momentarily as she extracted the phone from her jeans.

Glad Jane wasn't around to tease, she grinned.

_How are you? –JT_

Skye hastened to respond. _You're not here. That answer your question? –SP_

_Do I detect affection? –JT_

_Shut up. –SP_

_:D School's well, and we're having an autumn recital…I was wondering if you'd attend? -JT_

Skye did a double-take. Attend one of Jeffrey's concerts? Her heart began to race.

_Are you serious? Of course I'll be there! That is, if Daddy will let me miss school. Rats. –SP_

_We'll work on him. I've been told from several reliable sources that I'm very persuasive. –JT_

Skye tested madly in reply. _Who uses "reliable" when txting? -SP_

_Me, apparently. Does that bother you? -JT_

_No, doofus. –SP_

_Don't call your future boyfriend/husband that. :-( -JT_

Going a rather brilliant shade of scarlet, Skye took a moment to gather herself. Jeffrey had never pushed the boundaries like this. He was being…_bold. _

_Skye? –JT_

_I'm here. –SP_

_Everything alright? Has Jane broken her nose again? Are Batty's limbs intact? Talk to me! -JT_

_Everything's fine. Doofus. =D –SP_

_Only you could insult me, yet make me feel better about myself…let's see, what can I call you? -JT_

_Don't even think about it. –SP_

_Too late. Egghead. –JT_

_I'm not the one going to the fancy-schmancy private school for prodigies. –SP_

_I see I've met my match. –JT_

_Ha. –SP_

Skye smirked, every part of her being infatuated with feelings. _Feelings. _Caring, protectiveness, concern, affection…and something else that wasn't listed in Oxford English Dictionary.

Her phone gave an impatient shake. _I might as well come out and say it—I miss you. –JT_

_And I you. –SP _

So much I can barely breathe, thought Skye. She sighed, but it was too much like a groan.

_No hugs? -JT_

_Alright. O -SP_

_One hug?! -JT_

_Oooooooooooooo –SP_

_There we go. :D -JT_

_I wish I could promise to be at your recital, but it's not set in stone… -SP_

_I completely understand! Don't worry about it. I'll be stuck here until the end of year, anyway. –JT_

_Wish you were closer. –SP_

_Wish I was sitting next to you. –JT_

Skye nearly rolled her eyes. He was so stupidly sweet at times. _Great minds think alike, you know. –SP_

_Want to know what I'm thinking right now? -JT_

_Tell me. –SP_

_:* -JT_

_Jeffrey Tifton! -SP_

Skye put her phone down, honestly feeling as though she'd just read the world's most magnificent romance novel. _I'm becoming so sentimental, _she thought wryly. _I feel like I've swallowed a butterfly._

* * *

**...I know. xD**_  
_

**-Spark Writer-  
**


	15. Yes

**Short chapter, I know...more to come!**

* * *

"Daddy, can I go to Jeffrey's autumn school recital?"

Mr. Penderwick looked up at Skye from his leather bound copy of Hamlet. "Well—"

"Can I go, too?" Jane materialized in the living room, clutching her blue notebook and beaming persuasively.

Rosalind grinned at her father from over her chemistry notebook.

At the merest mention of Jeffrey's name, Hound and Batty popped up from behind the sofa, wearing bath towel capes and hopeful expressions. Not wanting to be excluded, Hound yipped.

"I, erm…" Martin looked around at everyone, feeling rather disconcerted. Four eager faces stared at him—well, five, counting Hound. "Alright, Skye, please explain."

Skye grinned. "Via text message, Jeffrey asked if I'd consider attending his school recital. I asked when—he said in about two weeks. Daddy, you have to see logic and let me go!"

"It was me."

Everyone swung around to look at Jane in confusion. "What?" prodded Skye.

"Hound chose me. Last time. When only one of us was allowed to visit Jeffrey in Boston."

Skye's blue eyes narrowed. "What d'you mean? How could that be—it was _my _name, you read it off the paper yourself."

Jane flushed. "It wasn't you, it was me—I just said it was you. I was thinking of sacrifice."

"Jane…" Skye groaned. "You mean it should have been you who went?"

Jane nodded. "Yes, and I was wondering if maybe I could come with you this time."

Mr. Penderwick gently closed his book and removed his glasses. "Jane-O, your mother always said your heart was deeper than the ocean and wider than the sky."

Jane remembered this and burning tears sprang to her eyes.

"Well, obviously Jane can go! She can hug Jeffrey first, for all I care!" Skye did of course care, but a sudden sisterly empathy had obscured her judgment.

Jane cast Skye a watery smile. "Thank you, Skye. I'm forever grateful—"

"There's no need," Skye said hastily.

Her father winked. "Alright, troops, here's the plan. I'm thinking of letting you all go, since there are only so many days in a life, and only so many of those days to see Jeffrey." He chuckled, seeing his daughters' expressions. "I take it you agree?" He was instantly smothered with four girls, hugging and laughing and thanking. "Now," he began, "I'm afraid I must finish this chapter…"

"Daddy, you've read Hamlet at least twenty times!" Rosalind shook her head disbelievingly.

"I'm aiming for twenty-one."

"Can I really go?" Batty slipped out of her towel-cape and peered at Mr. Penderwick, unable to believe her luck.

He tousled her curls. "How could I say otherwise?"

Something in Skye leaped, and she grinned so hard she was sure her very face would split in two.

* * *

**See that little box down there? Write something-anything in it! A word! I truly do love to see what you're thinking.**

**-Spark Writer-  
**


	16. A Brief Explosion

"Urgh! Why won't this sweater just…stay!" Jane abandoned all pretense and plopped down atop her suitcase.

Skye wrinkled her nose, irritated. "Why can't you just take something out? You can't possibly need all that junk."

"Junk?" Jane folded her arms, still perched on her luggage. "I need everything in this bag, Skye! Extra notebook and fountain pens, my 'glamor' dress, my camera, everything!" She eyed Skye's immaculate packing and sighed. "My organization skills are truly abysmal."

"For once," snorted Skye, "we agree." She glanced at the wall calendar, excited all over again. In just three days, Jane, Rosalind, Batty, their father and herself would be off to Boston. Off to see Jeffrey!

"I did something very nice today." Jane hopped off the suitcase and stood before Skye.

"What?"

"Well, Oliver's dad's cousin is ill, and—"

"Oh no."

"Be quiet, Skye—and I offered to have Oliver stay with us while he's gone. Go to Boston, even!"

"Oh _no_."

"And guess what?" Without waiting for a reply, Jane plowed on. "Oliver agreed! He's coming with us!"

"Drat!" Skye resisted the powerful urge to throw Jane out the window, suitcase and all. Then she noticed a loophole. "You haven't asked Daddy, have you?"

"I have." Jane beamed. "And he didn't see why not."

Skye flopped over sideways on her bed. "This is a disaster! Oliver is a slimy jerk of an idiot who would make _Hound_ look like a genius! He's despicable!"

"Just because you don't like him doesn't mean he's a bad person. You don't know him, Skye! And besides, I thought you felt bad about him losing his mom. _You_ of all people should know how that feels."

"Don't give me that! He insulted all of us!"

"Give him a chance!"

"Give me a break!" Skye slammed her fist onto her comforter. "I'll never understand your attraction to this egg-head!"

Jane leaned into Skye, shockingly angry. "Remember what you used to think of Jeffrey? You thought he was a stuck up know-it-all! You thought he was a showoff who tried to play the hero just to be in the spotlight! Well, look how things turned out, _Skye_! If I were you, I'd try be more forgiving for once in my life! Your judge of character is obviously _dead_-wrong." Jane marched from the room, and slammed the door behind her.

Skye watched her go, almost amused. For the very first time, Jane had out-tempered Skye, and that was something worth waiting for. Not that she didn't take Jane's words to heart—she did. She put her temper in her pocket and ducked into the hall. Seeing the thin crack of light from under the bathroom door, she knocked. "Jane?"

"Jane isn't in here. What's wrong?"

"_Batty?"_

There was a moment's pause, then the door swung wide, and Batty appeared. "I had to wash some glue of my hands." She looked expectantly up at Skye. "So what's the problem?"

"Jane."

Batty shrugged and tugged Skye's hand. "Don't be upset, Skye. Me and Iantha made cookies!"

"Iantha and I."

"What?"

"Never mind." Skye squeezed Batty's small hand. "I'm just going a little wacky, that's all. Will you share a cookie with me?"

"No." Batty giggled impishly. "We can each have one!" She looked so genuinely happy, that Skye felt a pang. Had she not paid her youngest sister enough attention lately?

"So how's your packing going?"

"Pretty well. Funty is a little squished right now."

Skye laughed. Her smile slid from her face like rain water when she saw Jane staring at her from Rosalind's doorway.

"Hey, Skye."

"Hey."

"I'm not mad anymore." Jane blushed and held out her arms.

Skye went a bit red, too. "This is stupid," she muttered, before wrapping Jane in a tight hug. She pulled back and grinned. "We're so insane sometimes, you know?"

"We're sisters!"

"For the record, I really don't mind if Oliver comes along. But over my dead body will he ride shotgun." She shook Jane's hand. "Truce?"

"Truce. Now let's eat a cookie."

Rosalind popped her head around the door. "The cookies _are_ tremendously delicious."

"You snagged one, didn't you?"

She headed for the stairs. "Maybe."

* * *

**T****houghts?**

**-Spark Writer-  
**


	17. A Different Side of Chance

**Thanks for the tumult of support, everyone! Boston, ho!**

* * *

After a brief flurry of hugs, kisses, doubling checking of bags and much waving, the four Penderwick sisters, their father, and one Oliver Chance were buckled into the car—going, going, gone!

From her spot in the backseat (Rosalind had gotten the much beloved shotgun), Skye clicked her tongue in sympathy.

"What is it?" Batty and Jane peered over each of Skye's shoulders, eager to see Jeffrey's latest text.

"As is turns out, Mrs. T-D and Dexter will be attending the recital." Everyone excepting Oliver wrinkled their noses in mingled disgust and bother at the mention of Dexter. "But," Skye continued, "So will Alec."

Batty and Rosalind cheered, while Jane hastened to explain to Oliver the long story behind their friendship with Jeffrey. He listened attentively, and Skye had to admit—albeit reluctantly—that the boy wasn't entirely awful. Maybe just a little bit. She slid her phone into her pocket and drummed her fingers on her lap. She wondered if Jeffrey was practicing right now.

She wondered if he was nervous.

She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, and imagined a protective white bubble around Jeffrey. She knew it was idiot of her, but she simply couldn't help it. She cared too much.

"Are you asleep?"

Batty's voice was jarringly close; Skye's eyes flew open in surprise. "No, you doof. I was thinking."

Oliver glanced over Jane's head at Skye. "I didn't have you pegged as a thinker."

"I'm not. I was _thinking. _ There's a difference."

Oliver didn't smile, but Skye noticed a sudden lack of hardness in his eyes. He rubbed his forehead and a faint smear of ink appeared on his temple.

Jane smiled fondly at him and cheerily grazed her thumb over the smudge. "There," she said with satisfaction.

He blinked. "What was that for?"

"Just a bit of ink." Jane grasped Oliver's right hand and held it up. "See?"

He tugged free of her grip and slipped his hand into his pocket. Jane went pink and glanced down at her lap.

"So," began Rosalind. "What kinds of things do you like to write, Oliver?"

"Anything."

"Fiction, nonfiction, mysteries…?"

Oliver flicked a loose wisp of hair from his eye. "Fiction sometimes, nonfiction when I feel the urge, but definitely _not _mysteries. Far too trivial for my taste."

"I see." Unruffled, Rosalind smiled at him in the rear-view mirror. "My boyfriend loves mystery novels, he—"

"Is this relevant?" Oliver glanced around at the car's occupants. "Really, I think I speak for all of us!"

Batty looked faintly relieved, Jane grinned into her coat collar, Skye poked Rosalind teasingly, and Mr. Penderwick coughed into his fist.

Silence.

Oliver looked around, seemingly at ease. Skye cleared her throat. "Thanks, Oliver. We all like Tommy, but sometimes Rosy goes into too much detail…"

Oliver shrugged. "As you've probably noticed, I have no problem with honesty."

Rosalind—scarlet at this point—turned the radio on, and the car quite suddenly filled with operatic screeching.

"Turn it down!" Skye shouted, clutching her ears.

Mr. Penderwick went rather pale and fumbled for the volume knob. Jane looked sadly at Skye, and Skye remembered the many nights they'd spent listening to their father playing opera from the CD's Elizabeth Penderwick never hear again.

"Sorry," apologized Rosalind. She studied a chipped fingernail, not looking at Mr. Penderwick.

Batty tugged on Skye's sleeve. "Skye?"

"Yes?"

"Does Jeffrey have a solo today?"

"I don't know." Skye smiled. "I hope so."

"I wish I could play with him." Batty leaned back in her seat, looking desperately sad.

Oliver narrowed his eyes in fascination. "What instrument?"

"Piano," said Batty, not skipping a beat. "Jeffrey and I did a duet together the summer before last. His dad's a musician, he's a musician, and I want to be one, too."

"Jeffrey also plays the clarinet," Skye explained. "But he's only been playing it for a little more than a year. Piano—that's his passion."

Oliver pulled a composition book from his copious pocket. "I should take notes at the recital."

"What for?" Jane asked.

"I recently created a character who has a deep love for piano…but I can honestly admit—I know nothing about the instrument."

Skye wrinkled her nose in frank confusion. "Why the heck would you write about a piano player if you don't know about pianos?"

"Spur of the moment."

"Then maybe you should work on impulse control." Skye raised her eyebrows in challenge.

Oddly, Oliver had become quite excited. "That," he chuckled, "was a brilliant line. Mind if I jot it down for future use?"

"You can't. Copyright, you know." For a quick second, only Mr. Penderwick knew Skye was joking. Everyone else just goggled stupidly at her, until…

"Ha!" Oliver burst into real laughter, and pulled a pen from his coat sleeve. "Another treasure."

Rosalind rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Skye."

"What's copyright?" Batty wanted to know.

Skye shrugged noncommittally. "I don't know the details. But it certainly sounds important, doesn't it?"

She was slightly unsettled by Oliver's sudden switch to a good-natured, laughing middleschooler. Were had the critical writer gone? Even worse, she abruptly saw the similarities between Oliver and Jane.

Rats.

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**Reviews make me happy. :D**

**-Spark Writer-  
**


	18. For Jeffrey

**The feels! :'D**

* * *

There was a pleasant atmosphere of anticipation, thought Skye, as they strolled up to the large and rather imposing double doors that played portal to the school of music arts. Large clusters of students waved joyfully to family members and old friends, jumping up and down and generally acting like Hound. Batty held tight to Rosalind's hand, seeming to fear that if she let go she would be swept away in the masses of people. Here and there, a lonely violin or guitar case sat propped against a bench, waiting for its musician to reunite with it. Jane was beaming with undiluted excitement; she was positively itching to retrieve her notebook and scrawl about all that she saw. Likewise, Oliver carefully studied the surrounding crowds, a furrow appearing between his brows. Skye assumed he was mentally storing away the details for impending use.

She herself could think of nothing but Jeffrey. Like if anyone so much as snickered during his performance, they wouldn't leave without a broken nose. Or that she couldn't wait to see him, talk to him, have him there with her. At the moment, though, simply laying eyes on him would enough. She followed her father into the school, yanking Jane by the elbow (the younger girl showed signs of drooling over one glimpse of the impressive library).

A slight girl with pixie cut brown hair handed Mr. Penderwick a program and a convenient map of the school. Straightening his glasses, Mr. Penderwick peered good-naturedly at the program.

"Ah. I believe we go through these doors—" He gestured ahead, "and along that hallway until we come to a set of doors marked 'Rachmaninov Performance Hall.' Beyond that is the main auditorium." He smiled in obvious relief, and he and the five young people set off amid the people streaming along the corridor.

Skye wrinkled her nose as they passed a practice room; clashing strains of music issued from it—strings, a tuba, and (Skye recognized this) a very nicely played clarinet. The atmosphere was such that Jane and Oliver couldn't stop joking and grinning like fools, while Rosalind, Batty and Skye murmured among themselves. "Why am I so nervous?" Skye asked of Rosy.

"Because you care about Jeffrey—you're nervous for him."

"It's stupid!"

"No, it isn't. I feel a bit shaky myself."

Batty was pale as well. Her curls looked especially dark against her cheeks. "What if he messes up?"

Skye leaned down, now eye level with her sister. "Listen to me, Batty. If Jeffrey messes up and looks like an idiot, we'll just clap all the harder for him because he had _the guts_ to get on that stage! Because we love him, and that's what we do for people we love. Even if he screws up every last note, we clap because we're acknowledging him as a musician, and more importantly, as our friend."

"Boyfriend," snickered Jane.

"Because good, bad, or horrendous," Skye continued, calmly, "He's Jeffrey. Just clap for Jeffrey."

Even if all of that didn't quite make sense to Batty, it did impart a feeling courage in her, and she nodded, eyes shining. "For Jeffrey."

And oddly at once, all four sisters tapped their pinkies together like glasses of champagne. They were ready.

The Rachmaninov Performance Hall was buzzing with conversation and discordant melodies coming from behind the heavy velvet curtain that shrouded the stage. Skye was about to plop down in her seat, when a terribly familiar smirk caught her eye.

Dexter.

Already fuming, Skye wrenched herself from the row, and charged over. Before Dexter even noticed her, she spoke through gritted teeth. "We meet again."

Dexter turned, his fake polite smile dropping from his face. "Hello, Jane." He took a step back, privately fearing that this Penderwick girl might bite.

"It's Skye. Maybe you're getting the beginnings of Alzheimer's." She folded her arms and gaged his expression. He looked as though he'd like nothing better than to strangle her.

"It's always a pleasure to see you," said Dexter, now lying through his teeth, "but I really must go find my seat, Brenda—"

"Can endure your absence for a half a minute." Skye leaned in, truly angry. "Don't tell me that you came here today just to play a part, because you haven't shown yourself to be anything better. Don't act like you care, if you don't. And do _not _tell me that you dragged your behind to this recital just to bully Jeffrey, because you'll be mortally sorry if that's the case." She glowered at him, glowered straight into his eyes.

Dexter's mouth fell open a bit. "I'm really not sure I understand…"

Skye slapped her fist against her other hand. "Understand that?" Giving him a significant glare, she turned smartly and walked away. Double darn that Dexter. Instead of returning to her chair, she furtively slipped through a door leading the backstage wings, and stopped once inside. No one would know she didn't belong; young musicians were traipsing about and there was an air of general chaos. Grabbing a trumpet case, Skye skirted a large set of bass drums, and wandered through the crowd. All she wanted was to wish Jeffrey good luck. And she would, if it killed her.

Skye struggled through an assembly of violin players, past three grand pianos and around circle of metal folding chairs and—ah.

Jeffrey.

He was seated alone, in a corner with his clarinet, very ashen and very still. Skye stared at him, waves of feelings washing over her in delicious storm. She slowed her pace, and approached him, heart expanding every second. She did not speak until she was beside him, sitting and looking at him. He glanced up, and his eyebrows flew up in shock.

He made an indistinguishable sound of relief, joy and gratitude, and pulled Skye to him, hugging, hugging, hugging. She laughed a little, and pulled back, grinning. "I just had to," she said impishly.

"How in the world did you get in here?" Jeffrey stared at her in wonder.

"I acted like I belonged. I wanted to see you before you go on."

"Thank you. I'm going to throw up any minute."

"No, you aren't. You're going to rock the stage today."

Simultaneously they reached for each other's hands, holding on tightly, so tightly Skye's fingers lost feeling. Both knew that when they let go, time would return to galloping, and Jeffrey would have to stand up, collect his music, and play. But for the moment-

Peace.

Jeffrey released her hand reluctantly, and looked about for his music. "Wish me luck," he whispered.

"Luck," said Skye, standing with him. "I really don't know what to say," she murmured. "No prophetic advice jumps to mind—I'm not even a musician! So…just play." She smiled. "If that makes any sense."

"It makes total sense." Jeffrey squeezed his eyes shut, let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding, and gained a few inches in confidence. He gave Skye a fleeting smile, made to walk away, then stopped.

"You're my best friend, Skye."

Skye didn't reply, but hugged Jeffrey once more, fiercely and without holding back. "Go. Do your thing. Be free."

And in moments, the curtain opened on an impressive collection of young performers, and one glowing Jeffrey.

In the audience, Skye's heart beat powerfully.

* * *

**You know what to do! =P**

**-Spark Writer-  
**


	19. Just the Beginning

**Alright, after some thought, I've decided that this will be my last Penderwick's fanfiction for a while, so thanks for your support, amazing reviews, suggestions, and the stamina to stick with this story until the last sentence. It means more than you know. **

**Enjoy this chapter, I wrote for my readers.**

* * *

Riveted.

Skye was absolutely, utterly riveted. No more could she pull her gaze from Jeffrey than she could stop breathing. Moments earlier, the other students had cleared the stage and left Jeffrey alone with a grand piano and a weighty silence. He'd begun softly, carving ribbons of sound into the stillness, building and building and building until it seemed the tension would burst the auditorium into smithereens.

It wasn't a song Skye recognized, either. It was deep and dark, dashing and fiery, electric and gorgeous, and it spiraled through the air, filling her up with its resonance. Occasionally Jeffrey would allow his eyelids to fall shut, and he'd play in his own little darkness.

Rosalind's eyes were glittering with tears, Jane was pale and faintly trembling, Oliver's pen lay abandoned on his lap, Batty's fingers were in her mouth, and Mr. Penderwick smiled fondly at the boy-at-the-piano, remembering.

After an indeterminable length, Jeffrey played a last drifting chord and leaned away from the keys, complete. The lack of music jarred the audience; it stirred, restless, like an animal. Then, beginning with Skye, the applause went up, a roar of approval and appreciation. The Penderwick sisters leaped to their feet, somehow—suddenly—hand in hand, and hollered with joy and pride.

"Spectacular!" shrieked Jane, her curls bobbing madly.

"You did it!" Skye bellowed, knowing full well that Jeffrey could not hear her in the exuberant crowd.

"Beautiful," sighed Rosalind, her breath catching in her throat.

Batty shrieked and waved and jumped enough for eighteen people, until her father lifted her onto his shoulders and Jeffrey saw her, waved at her! _Waved at her!_

As if all this wasn't exciting enough, Alec pushed through the throngs of people, reaching Jane first and tugging her curls playfully.

"Alec!" she yelped, and flew up to hug him. "Did you hear him?"

"Yes," said Alec, grinning like an idiot. "I saw, I heard…the works. And it was beautiful."

Skye knew that somewhere in the performance hall Dexter and Mrs. T-D lurked, and she hoped they would just slink off without trying to say hello to Jeffrey. Dexter, at least. She turned to Alec and beamed. "Did Jeffrey compose that song himself?"

"Yes, he says it's untitled, as of yet."

Sure enough, a quick look in the program showed Rosalind and Skye this was true.

"Who's this?" asked Alec, curiously looking between Jane and Oliver.

"Er, he's…" Jane was saved from further embarrassment by the elephantine sounds of several hundred music students tramping across the stage.

Alec gave them a last wink and disappeared.

After a brief number with a lot of drums and too much tuba, the red velvet curtain descended upon the stage, muffling the joyous squeals of those backstage. The lights went on around them, and spectators began rising from their seats, chatting good-naturedly with anyone near them.

"That. Was. Epic," said Batty, and everyone burst into laughter.

"Only Jeffrey was epic," said Skye, partially because she was loyal, partially because it was true.

"He can play," Oliver murmured.

Skye grinned wickedly. "You'd better believe it."

"Ooh, now you'll have lots of details for your new character, right?" asked Jane. "The one who plays piano?"

Oliver acknowledged this with a barely detectable nod. "A few."

Mr. Penderwick looked around for Alec, spotted him struggling toward them, and together, the Penderwick's, one Chance and one McGrath advanced on the stage. The stage itself had become a chaos of parents and their children, teachers and students, audience and musicians. Skye bounded onto it in one leap, and was caught from behind.

"How was it?"

"Jeffrey!" Skye turned around and found herself nose to nose with him. "You were fantastic, really, you were."

"I followed your advice, and I can't remember ever playing better than I did today."

"I'm glad I had a hand in helping you on your 'way up.'" She grinned and pointed behind her.

Jeffrey followed her hand with his gaze, and gasped. "Alec's here!"

"He didn't tell you?" Skye raced after the freckle-faced boy, accidentally knocking an ancient teacher flat.

Alec hugged Jeffrey nearly as tightly as he had at Batty's first recital, squeezing and murmuring words only Jeffrey could hear.

The tears Rosalind hadn't yet shed came now, falling softly to the floor. She sniffed, laughing embarrassedly, and checked them on her sleeve. When Alec finally let Jeffrey go, he looked a bit lost, but waved his son off. "Go have fun for a while. You absolutely deserve it."

Skye glanced at her sisters and they smiled at her, then melted into the crowd, leaving her alone with Jeffrey.

"Come on," he said.

Holding hands so as not to lose each other, they wove through the auditorium, out into the sunny corridor, down several hallways, and out into the blinding light of the outdoors. The white marble steps were devoid of people; the only sound around them was the distant rush of cars on the freeway, and a sparrow chirping in a tree.

"Let's sit here," said Jeffrey.

"Let's talk until we can't talk anymore."

"Let's get it all out in the open."

Skye smiled. "And let's make it ours."

And so they did.

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**...Goodbye for now!**

**-Spark Writer-  
**


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